


Various Criminal Minds Drabbles

by JustJasper



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 22:48:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1665332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustJasper/pseuds/JustJasper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles and little fics originally posted on tumblr. Consider this a "best of" collection, things that didn't get long enough to be posted standalone but are still worth a look. More stuff (ranging from 1-line drabbles to epic great rambles) can be read on <a href="http://justjasper.tumblr.com/">my tumblr</a>. Ratings and content will vary, check the notes of each chapter for any relevant info.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. reid/morgan, skype while one is away

“This is weird.”  
  
“How is this weird?” Morgan’s image on screen frowned.  
  
“I’m so used to talking to Garcia like this…” Reid trailed off, hands rather self consciously shielding his bare chest. He had long overcome awkwardness with nudity with the other man, but stripping in from of a webcam was a whole different thing. There was no reassuring warm hand to reach out to him, and even Morgan’s smile on the screen seemed somewhat artificial, created by pixels.  
  
“C’mon, baby,” Morgan chuckled, “don’t you want to see my dick?”  
  
“Yes, of course,” Reid spluttered, feeling himself blushing, “that was the intention of using the webcams, I just…”  
  
“Just?” the man prompted, leaning back in his chair, stretching out his arms behind his head. Reid was pretty sure that was deliberate, and couldn’t help tracing his eyes over the tense curve of Morgan’s muscles on the screen, really quite high quality all things considered, but nothing as good as being able to feel those strong muscles under smooth skin physically. When his eyes had scanned the plains of Morgan’s chest he could see that Morgan was grinning at him on the screen, a clear indication he knew exactly what he was doing. Reid feigned annoyance at being played so easily, narrowing his eyes even as he had to shift in seat.  
  
“Just take off your pants, Derek.”


	2. Reid/Hotch, "Did you know grain is explosive in powder form?"

"Did you know grain is explosive in powder form?" Reid said, not looking up from the bread dough he was kneading with his hands. Opposite him at the kitchen island, Jack looked up.  
  
“It can explode?” the six year old asked sceptically, glancing down at the sticky dough between his own fingers.  
  
“Under pressure, yes,” Reid continued, smiling good-naturedly at the boy. “Although it’s not quite as volatile as pistachio nuts, which are actually considered a dangerous good to transport because they’re explosive under-”  
  
“If you could not teach my son what common household items can explode,” Hotch said, thumping his own ball of dough down rather harder than was necessary on the floured surface, “that’d be great. We do not need a repeat of the last time Jack told his teacher ‘daddy’s friend was telling me about bombs’…”  
  
Reid grinned sheepishly, and Hotch didn’t even try to conceal the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Jack watched the look passing between the two adults and giggled quietly as he continued to squash the bread dough together, mimicking his father’s skilled hands.  
  
“Why don’t you tell him about the yeast,” Aaron offered. “Living bacteria is just as entertaining as explosives, and probably won’t mean I have to go in for a parent-teacher meeting.”  
  
“Yeast?” Jack piped up. “What’s yeast?”  
  
“Actually yeast isn’t strictly bacteria,” Reid started, “it’s a micro-organism classified as a fungi, and in bread dough it converts fermentable sugars-”  
  
Aaron smiled to himself as Spencer explained the science to his son, who was listening intently, hanging onto the other man’s every word.


	3. reid/prentiss, making homemade pizza

Reid had so much flour on his face he looked like a ghost. Emily tried not to laugh but a difficult feat when he looked so focused as he placed slices of pepperoni on the pizza base. He wasn’t the most organised person in the world, but he seemed to want to place the slices on in some kind of order, perhaps so the pizza would cook evenly. Emily, however, had no such qualms, as she topped her own base, one of the two they were making for their pizza party that evening. She threw on cheese and mushrooms on top of the sauce base with no thought for making it too even; to her, pizza didn’t need symmetry to be delicious. She was finished long before he was, and waited patiently, until he started adjusting slices on a perfectly good pizza.  
  
She passed the stove on her way across the kitchen, lifting the wooden spoon out of the pan with the now cold sauce in. She coughed deliberately, drawing his attention. She smiled coyly and closed the distance between them, touching the spoon to his mouth and leaving a stain of red-orange sauce. He frowned in confusion, but his tongue snaked out automatically to taste it on his lips.  
  
“It’s nice cold, too,” she said.  
  
“It is,” he agreed, smiling at her. She was still grinning as she trailed her finger over the spoon, and then held it aloft. He got the idea quicker than he once would have, leaning forward to take her finger into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around her more sensuously than simply collecting the sauce required, and she shuffled a little closer. He pulled off her finger slowly, meeting her gaze with quiet confidence.  
  
“Want another taste?” she said, offering the wooden spoon. He made to lean forward and taste straight from it, but she pulled it away from him, instead lowering the spoon to let it brush her exposed cleavage, smearing her skin with the red sauce. She knew he would acquiesce, because his eyes were now glued to her chest. His pink tongue darted between his lips as he dipped his head against her neck, lips trailing downwards.


	4. Reid and Morgan, afternoon walk around a park, with Clooney

“Derek,” Spencer asked, squeezing the man’s hand as the other man launched a ball as far as he could, their canine companion racing across the grass, “do you think Clooney respects me?”  
  
“What?” Morgan couldn’t help laughing, turning a little towards his boyfriend, who was looking rather serious as he fiddled with the end of his purple scarf. Clooney raced back, offering the ball into Morgan’s waiting hand so he could throw it again.  
  
“It’s well documented that domestic dogs form pack structures with humans,” Reid said, his breath coming out in a cloud of steam in front of his face. “Do you think he respects me?”  
  
“Of course,” Morgan shrugged, watching Clooney race back towards them.  
  
“He respects you,” Reid said. “You’re the alpha, the pack leader. He knows you’re in charge, so he listens to you.”  
  
“Well,” Morgan said, taking the tennis ball from Clooney and handing it off to Reid, “let’s see.”  
  
Clooney’s attention immediately switched to Reid, wagging his tail and giving an excited bark. Spencer got the idea, and threw the ball, cringing at the minimal distance it covered compared to Morgan’s skilled throw. The dog raced back, but headed to Morgan. When Morgan didn’t offer his hand to take the ball Clooney nudged at him, and Derek squeezed Spencer’s hand. The slender man held out his hand, seeking the ball. Clooney ignored him, barking around the tennis ball in his mouth.  
  
“Give me the ball,” Spencer said.  
  
Clooney jumped back excitedly, and dropped the ball a few feet away.  
  
“Clooney,” Reid said, trying to sound authoritative.  
  
The dog barked, stretching out his front legs and wagging his tail.  
  
“Get him on the leash,” Morgan suggested, handing it to his partner. As soon as he did, Clooney parked. He backed away when Reid moved towards him, just out of the man’s reach.  
  
“Clooney,” Reid said, hoping the dog would pick up his inflection, his small plea for him to behave.  
  
The dog barked happily, and ran away across the field. Spencer wheeled around, huffing.  
  
“He doesn’t respect me,” he said, not appreciating the fact that Morgan was clearly fighting laughter. “He doesn’t recognise me as a high-ranking pack member. I’m not entirely sure how I can change that, you’d assume in pack structure that he’d recognise our connection and at least consider me the alpha ‘female’ by my connection to you, but-oomph!”  
  
Clooney, out of nowhere, knocked Reid right off his feet, and proceeded to lick excitedly at his face as he tried weakly to push him off.  
  
“Clooney!” he tried to shield himself from the dog’s affections, to little avail. “Morgan!” he tried instead. “Help me!”  
  
Unashamedly laughing now, Morgan picked up the leash and clipped it to the dog’s collar, pulling him to heel beside him and offering his free hand to help his lover up.  
  
“Maybe he doesn’t respect you,” he said, leaning forward to kiss the man’s cheek as his grumbled and brushed his coat down, “but he sure does love you.”


	5. morgan & reid, spence takes derek cardigan shopping.

Cardigans were cool.  
  
Or at least that was what Reid had assured him. Derek loved Spencer with all his heart, but he didn’t think he was the person to trust on deciding what was ‘cool’. That being said, he had noticed the rise of cardigans in men’s fashion, which often coincidentally made Reid appear fashion-conscious, when he really wasn’t.  
  
But Morgan hadn’t resisted when his partner had dragged him into a clothing store by their linked pinkies, towards a rack of button-downs. He felt he owed the other this; they had never tried massively to change the other’s style, but it was because of Derek that Spencer now owned a pair of jeans that hugged his ass in a way Garcia described as ‘barely PG13’. He usually only wore them in order to seduce Morgan, because he found them too restrictive and preferred to get them off as soon as possible.  
  
“Here,” Reid said, picking something off the rack and holding it up. Morgan frowned because it was beige; to his eyes Spencer was the only man in existence that could pull off beige. “No.” Reid nodded, reading the other’s expression and putting it back on the rack. “Okay.”  
  
Morgan slipped his phone out of his pocket just to check it for messages idly, sparing glances at the other man as he looking through the various cardigans. He didn’t miss it when Reid did a double-take on something he looked at, but then passed it by. Eventually he ended up back next to Morgan, smiling a little awkwardly.  
  
“I know you’ve spotted something you like.”  
  
Spencer’s tongue poked out against his lips.  
  
“Show me,” Morgan chuckled. The other man went around the rack again, returning with a dark earthy green cardigan, which had a lion printed on one side in a distressed gold. “Hey,” he nodded, taking the hanger and holding it under his chin, smoothing the garment over his chest, “I kinda like this one.”  
  
“It suits you,” Spencer said. “I like it when you wear green.”  
  
“You do?” Derek grinned as Spencer nodded sincerely.  
  
“Yeah, it looks good with your skintone, greens and browns are colours often found together in the natural world, and-”  
  
Morgan kissed him sweetly, a hand placed gently at the back of his neck. He drew back smiling at his lover, recalling the green underwear and socks he’d received from Spencer last Christmas.  
  
“I like it. Let’s get it.”


	6. Reid/Morgan at Emily's funeral.

“She didn’t want to be buried,” Reid said, rubbing his hands over his face.  
  
“Reid.” Morgan’s voice was gentle as he undid the man’s tie.  
  
“She wanted to be cremated. She should have been cremated.”  
  
“Her family made the arrangements. It was their decision.”  
  
“It wasn’t what she wanted.” Reid let his hands drop to his side, fists clenching and unclenching.  
  
“I know.” Morgan nodded, pulling Reid’s tie from around his neck.  
  
“We shouldn’t-” Reid faltered, screwed his eyes closed for a second; when he opened them he couldn’t meet Morgan’s gaze. “We shouldn’t of had to carry her corpse. That’s not what she wanted. It should have been a cremation.”  
  
Morgan was steady as Reid fell forward, burying his face in the older agent’s chest, balling his fists in the material of his dark shirt. Morgan inhaled and exhaled slowly through his nose, putting his hands on the other’s back in what he hoped was a reassuring way as tears soaked through fabric to his skin and Reid let out a shuddering breath.  
  
“Spencer…” Morgan didn’t have words for him, but he wasn’t sure words would be enough.


End file.
